


Inseparable

by aretia



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 18:57:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20569271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aretia/pseuds/aretia
Summary: The worst thing Aziraphale can imagine is a world without Crowley.





	Inseparable

Aziraphale hadn’t seen Crowley in a while. 

He couldn’t remember when he had last seen him, either. Which was odd, because Crowley never left without saying goodbye, and saying exactly where he was going and when he would be back. After all the times they had nearly lost each other, they couldn’t bear to be separated without those little reassurances. Aziraphale might have been too immersed in his book to hear when Crowley called to him from the doorway, so he tried not to think anything of it. But he grew more and more distracted by the thought, so he set down his book and got up to wander around the store. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called out. He climbed the stairs to his bedroom, thinking that he would find him taking a nap under the covers. He was nowhere to be found in the upstairs flat, so he made the descent back to the bookshop. “Crowley, dear? I thought that maybe we could go out to lunch or something.” Still no response came, and as he navigated the labyrinth of bookshelves, he still found no sign of Crowley. 

He hoped the poor dear hadn’t turned into a snake and fallen asleep underneath a bookshelf. The last time that happened, he had gotten so cold that he had fallen into hibernation, and it had taken a week of Aziraphale carrying him around in his collar to warm him up enough that he could transform back. He checked under every bookshelf, behind as many books as he could, and still no Crowley, in either snake or human form. 

With a sigh, Aziraphale concluded that Crowley was not in the bookshop. He picked up the receiver of his rotary telephone and dialed Crowley’s number from memory. Even when Crowley was busy, he always picked up when he saw that it was Aziraphale calling.

The phone rang a few times, too many times. He should have picked up by now. Frustration stirred in Aziraphale’s chest, followed by excitement when he heard the click of the line picking up on the other end.

_The number that you have called is not in service. Goodbye. _

The dial tone rang on, and Aziraphale stood there, his heart sinking into the pit of his stomach. He carefully placed the receiver back on its stand. 

Crowley had to be taking a nap at his flat. That had to be it. He would never ignore Aziraphale’s calls otherwise. Of course, if he was just unable to answer the phone, Aziraphale would have gotten his voicemail, and at least had a chance to hear his voice, instead of that robotic message that said the number was disconnected. But he tried to push that thought out of his mind as he grabbed his coat and raced out the door.

Aziraphale hadn’t been to Crowley’s flat in a while. They spent most of their time together in Aziraphale’s bookshop, and Crowley kept his own space as more of a formality than anything. His tastes in interior design were wildly different from Aziraphale’s, and nothing helped preserve his apartment’s not-lived-in minimalist aesthetic more than not living in it. 

Aziraphale knocked on the door of Crowley’s flat. When the person who answered the door was not Crowley, but his human friend Anathema, Aziraphale blurted out the first thing that popped into his mind, which was, “Oh, how nice, did Crowley invite you over for tea?”

Anathema raised her eyebrow at him. “Who’s Crowley?”

“The person who lives here,” said Aziraphale, feeling suddenly off balance.

“This is my apartment,” said Anathema. “Aziraphale, are you okay?”

“I have a bit of a problem, actually. I can’t find my friend Crowley,” Aziraphale said, wringing his hands and bouncing up and down on his heels. “Have you seen him anywhere? He’s about yea high,” he explained, motioning with his hand a few inches above his own head, “red hair, wears dark sunglasses all the time.”

“I’ve never met anyone matching that description,” Anathema said.

“I could have sworn that I introduced you,” Aziraphale mused. “He and I are… inseparable.”

“I don’t think you quite understand,” said Anathema. “I have never seen you with anyone else. It has always only been you.”

That was when it finally started to sink in. 

Anathema kept talking, oblivious that she had lost Aziraphale’s attention. “I know you’re lonely, and you need some more friends, but it won’t do any good to make them up. It’s a shame that you can’t use dating apps, since you don’t have a cell phone, but I sent you a flyer for a singles’ night, did you go to that?”

Her voice was drowned out by the realization that had crashed into Aziraphale’s mind. This had to be some cruel punishment by Heaven. Hell wasn’t clever enough to think up these sorts of schemes, but Heaven was just devious enough to pull this off. As payback for Aziraphale’s betrayal, they must have not only taken Crowley away, but erased the memories of him from the minds of all those around him.

“I have to go,” Aziraphale interrupted her, and stormed off down the hall, leaving a very confused and concerned Anathema standing in the doorway.

Aziraphale let his anger simmer inside him all the way back to the bookshop, where he picked up his rotary phone and dialed Gabriel’s number. He was ready to unleash all of his fury when the archangel picked up on the second ring and answered with a cheerful greeting, “Hello, Aziraphale! Haven’t heard from you in a while, how’s the weather down there?”

“What have you done with Crowley?” Aziraphale seethed. 

“I’m sorry?” said Gabriel.

“Oh, you will be,” Aziraphale said, pouring as much righteous wrath into his voice as he could muster. “Once I find him, even Falling would be a merciful fate compared to what I’m going to do to you. If I find out that you have even so much as harmed a single feather--”

“Aziraphale, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Gabriel stopped him. “Who is Crowley?”

That sent Aziraphale’s train of murderous thought careening off its tracks. Anathema forgetting about Crowley, that he could chalk up to Heaven’s manipulation, since she was human. But Gabriel was a terrible liar, and if this plan was his doing, then he wouldn’t have been able to keep the traces of recognition and smug self-assurance out of his voice. Yet all Aziraphale heard in that question was innocent confusion. 

“You know. The demon Crowley, the wily adversary. And… and…” There was no point in trying to hide anything when he’d already lost all he had to lose. “And my best friend.”

This time, Gabriel burst into giggles, which reignited Aziraphale’s rage. His laughter trailed off and he said, “That’s a good one, Aziraphale. Don’t you remember? _I’m_ your best friend!”

“Right. Of course. I--I have to go.” He slammed down the receiver of his telephone, hanging up on his self-proclaimed best friend. 

What if Anathema was right, and he had made Crowley up? The memory of Crowley had started to fade around the edges. He could still hear the sound of Crowley’s voice, his laugh, his brilliant smile on the treasured occasions that Aziraphale made it appear. He tried to hold on to those memories, capture them and pull them close, before they slipped through his fingers, because they were all he had left. 

All he had left of Crowley…

Aziraphale awoke with a gasp, Crowley’s name a breath away from his lips. 

Black sheets pooled around him as he bolted up in bed. He looked around, disoriented, at the unfamiliar surroundings. This was not his cozy bed above the bookshop with the tartan quilt and the nightlight next to it; instead, there were cool silk sheets and a velvet canopy overhead. He breathed in the scent of cinnamon and pine, and breathed out a sigh of relief. He had spent the night in _Crowley’s_ bed. 

Aziraphale looked to the side, and found Crowley lying beside him, some distance away in the vast expanse of the king-size bed. Crowley’s hand was curled around his pillow, his sharp features softened by sleep and the gentle moonlight caressing his refined cheekbones. 

Aziraphale’s first instinct upon waking from the nightmare was to embrace Crowley, to touch him, to reassure himself that he was real and here and not erased from existence. But he would never forgive himself if he interrupted Crowley’s peaceful sleep. He settled back down into the pillows, blinking his eyes closed and open again, willing his racing mind to calm down so that he could go back to sleep. 

Golden eyes caught a ray of moonlight, flashing open in the darkness. "Aziraphale?" Crowley murmured, his voice thick with drowsiness. 

"Oh, Crowley," Aziraphale replied. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't. I was already awake," Crowley said, although his drooping eyelids did little to lend credence to that statement. "Couldn't sleep. Are you alright?" 

"Of course, I'm fine. Go back to sleep," Aziraphale muttered, deflecting Crowley's question. His eyes glanced away from Crowley's, then darted back, to find Crowley’s unblinking gaze still prying into the depths of his soul.

"I had a nightmare," Aziraphale admitted with a sigh of defeat. "I dreamed that I… lost something important to me.”

"Awww. Did a customer take your favorite book?" Crowley asked, scooting closer to him with a cheeky smile spreading across his face.

"No, Crowley," Aziraphale huffed. “_You._ I’m talking about you.”

Aziraphale’s arms reached out halfway across the bed, and Crowley came where he was beckoned, sliding easily into Aziraphale’s arms. Crowley’s embrace felt like a warm light radiating through him, chasing away the darkness of the nightmare.

“You had a dream that you lost _me?_” Crowley asked.

“Yes. It was awful. You weren't just gone. It was like you didn't exist,” Aziraphale said. His arms tightened around Crowley’s waist, as if he could tuck him inside the aching space between his ribs and keep him there, so that he would never be apart from him again. “I looked all over for you, but I couldn’t find you. And then when I asked Anathema and Gabriel about you, they didn’t know who you were. It was like I was the only one left who remembered you…” 

The nightmare echoed behind Aziraphale’s closed eyelids, and when he opened them again, his eyes were damp with tears. 

Crowley’s hand cradled the back of Aziraphale’s head, his fingers weaving in between the soft blond curls. He nuzzled the side of his face against Aziraphale’s. “You looked for me? You missed me?” he asked, his breath warm against Aziraphale’s ear.

“Of course I missed you,” Aziraphale said. “I was so panicked when I couldn’t find you, and when I realized you were gone… My world was empty without you.” Crowley’s breath hitched, and Aziraphale looked up to see that Crowley’s eyes were welling up with tears too. “My dear, what’s wrong?”

“It’s just… You really want me in your life,” Crowley sniffled. “I still have trouble wrapping my mind around it sometimes. It’s a lot for me to handle.”

“Oh, Crowley, of course I do,” Aziraphale said. His hand curled around the back of Crowley’s neck, stroking the short hairs and soft skin. “Losing you was the worst thing I could imagine…”

“It’s okay, Aziraphale. I’m not going anywhere,” Crowley reassured him. He pressed a kiss to Aziraphale’s forehead. “I’m here.” He moved his chin up to place it atop Aziraphale’s hair, so that Aziraphale could rest his head on his chest, and listen to the steady beating of his heart. “I’m here.” 

Those simple words were all the comfort that Aziraphale needed. He clutched at the fabric of Crowley’s black silk pajamas, crying into his collar. “I’m here,” Crowley repeated, over and over, as many times as Aziraphale needed to hear it, until Aziraphale pulled away from his embrace just enough to kiss him on the lips. 

“You are here, aren’t you?” Aziraphale said, and the corners of his mouth lifted into the slightest dimpled smile. Crowley melted when Aziraphale smiled, his face going slack with a profound wave of affection. His hand reached up to caress Aziraphale’s face, and he wiped away the tears with his thumb, then kissed him on both cheeks. 

“Yes. I am,” said Crowley. “And you know what’s even better than that? I’m yours.” He scooped up Aziraphale’s hand in his and intertwined their fingers, then kissed the back of his angel’s hand. “I’m the one who gets to spend every moment here, with you, forever. Because I’m not going to disappear, and I’m never leaving you, not for the rest of eternity, as long as I can help it. As long as you’ll have me.”

He didn’t need to say that, and it pained Aziraphale that he thought he did. Aziraphale would always, _always_ want him. He gave a kiss to the back of Crowley’s hand in return, and then snuggled in next to Crowley’s collarbone. “I know, dear,” Aziraphale said. He felt Crowley’s face and throat grow warm with a blush as he rested there, enveloped in him. Crowley extended his dark wings, and draped one of them over Aziraphale, wrapping him in a cocoon of protection. 

“Are you ready to go back to sleep?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale made a noncommittal noise. The warm feathered blanket of Crowley’s wing over him did make him feel drowsy, but every time he let his eyes drift closed, he jolted awake. He felt like the nightmare was chasing him, waiting for him to come back within its grasp so it could seize him again. Angels weren’t meant to sleep, to hand control of their thoughts over to their subconscious. Crowley enjoyed sleeping, and it wasn’t until he started sharing a bed with Crowley that Aziraphale had come to appreciate it too, but having a nightmare like that made him reluctant again. 

“Are you afraid the nightmare will come back?” Crowley asked him. “Don’t worry, it won’t. I’ll protect you.” He squeezed Aziraphale’s hand. “If you want, I’ll even try doing one of those miracles that you like so much, to give you a good dream. Only for you, of course.”

“No, that’s okay, you don’t have to,” said Aziraphale. “You should get some sleep. I’ll just read or something.”

Aziraphale stayed awake while Crowley, still holding him in his arms and wing, dozed off. Silence settled over the room like a cloud of unease. It should have been peaceful, Crowley’s breaths maintaining a steady rhythm, but without his voice to fill the space, Aziraphale’s thoughts returned to the nightmare.

He didn’t want to deprive Crowley of the sleep that he needed for the sake of having his company, either. And the last thing he wanted to do was leave Crowley’s room and go read a book by himself, because if he didn’t have Crowley by his side, he would start to believe the nightmare was real again. 

Crowley stirred and sat up. He retracted his wings, and leaned over to the nightstand where Aziraphale had left a book that he had been reading, one that Crowley had given him. Crowley picked up the book and clipped the portable reading light onto its cover, and handed it to Aziraphale. “Here. I don’t feel like sleeping anymore, either.”

Aziraphale propped himself up in a sitting position against the mound of pillows that was piled in front of the headboard. “Oh, thank you, Crowley,” he said. He opened the book to the page where he had placed one of Crowley’s shed black feathers as a bookmark. 

“I haven’t read this one yet,” said Crowley. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “Shall we start from the beginning, then?” 

Crowley would never admit how closely attuned to Aziraphale he was. He responded to his nonverbal signals before Aziraphale even knew he sent them. He always knew exactly what Aziraphale wanted, as if he had a radio that was broadcasting directly from Aziraphale’s mind, and what he wanted right now was to relax himself with a book without leaving Crowley’s side.

Crowley wasn’t too fond of reading words on the page himself. He said it gave him a headache, much to Aziraphale’s dismay. But it turned out that he greatly enjoyed books, when Aziraphale read them to him. Aziraphale loved reading to Crowley, too, because it felt like the truest expression of intimacy, sharing his passion with Crowley, enfolding them both in the story. 

He lifted his arm, and let Crowley tuck himself in beside him, resting his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. He flipped back to the first page of the book and started reading, and he felt Crowley lean deeper into his side, settling into the soothing cadence of Aziraphale’s voice.

Within ten minutes of when Aziraphale began to read, he felt a weight on his chest. Crowley had dozed off and lost the ability to hold himself upright, and he was now curled up with his head resting atop the soft curve of Aziraphale’s stomach. Smiling fondly, he placed his hand on Crowley’s head and stroked his hair. His voice trailed off, and he read the words inside his head. 

Crowley’s golden eyes opened just a sliver, and he turned his head up to face Aziraphale with his narrowed eyes. “I didn’t ask you to stop.”

“Sorry, dear,” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to Crowley’s temple. His eyes skimmed back to the place where he had left off, and he started to read aloud again, every whispered word imbued with his love for Crowley. 

Soon, he found that his own eyelids were drooping as well, and every sentence he read was punctuated by a yawn. He shifted into a more comfortable position on his back, moving carefully to keep Crowley’s head pillowed on top of his chest the whole time. Crowley didn’t complain that Aziraphale had stopped reading this time; he had fallen into a deeper sleep, where he let his physical senses shut down, and all that remained was his bond with Aziraphale, humming warm and alive between them. 

Aziraphale rarely saw Crowley like this, because he rarely allowed himself to let down his guard, always needing to be alert even in his sleep to protect Aziraphale should any threat arise. But it was in Aziraphale’s arms where he felt the safest, and Aziraphale felt the same. Crowley, his Crowley, was asleep in his arms, and he soon joined him in sleep.

~

Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered open. Judging by the darkness, he hadn’t slept for long. He turned to the side to look for Crowley, and see if he was still asleep…

“Good morning,” Crowley murmured, kissing Aziraphale’s temple. 

When Aziraphale met Crowley’s eyes, he found those eyes to be wide open and full of adoration, like he had been awake and watching Aziraphale sleep for quite some time. He was propped up on his elbows, leaning over Aziraphale. The darkness wasn’t because it was night outside, but because Crowley had draped his wing over them again. 

“Didn’t want the light to wake you,” Crowley explained when Aziraphale looked up at it curiously. “You looked so peaceful like that.”

Aziraphale reached up and touched Crowley’s wing, fingers brushing against soft feathers as he gently pushed it aside. The light streaming through the gap in the curtains was the bright sunshine of mid-morning. 

“Oh my!” Aziraphale said, and made an effort towards sitting up, though it wasn’t much of one, as he fell back into the pillows seconds later. “It seems I’ve overslept.”

“That you did,” said Crowley. “Didn’t think you were capable of it. You amaze me every day, angel.”

“You wily serpent, you! You tempted me to stay in bed!” Aziraphale pouted, though of course there was no heat behind it, only playful affection. “You should have woken me up! I need to get back and open the bookshop…”

“Since when have you ever cared about opening on time?” Crowley countered. “It’s already too late to bother, if you ask me. You should just take the day off. Stay here with me. Get some more sleep, since you were finally starting to enjoy it.”

“You have a point. Anyone who has been waiting outside for me to open has probably given up by now…” Aziraphale sighed, settling back down into the bed and leaning against Crowley’s chest. “And sleeping is nice, with you watching over me.”

Crowley kissed the top of his head. “I’m glad. You deserve to enjoy it,” he said. “I’ll be right here.”

Aziraphale trusted that Crowley would always be there beside him, exactly where he wanted him to be. So he dozed off again, nestled in the warm embrace of his Crowley, the one who made his world complete.


End file.
